“You little—” A voice roared from the house. A man came running outside. There was a crack of a gun. The shot came from a tall Australian pine directly across the street. A flash of light and a second crack followed the first.
The man on the sidewalk folded like a paper napkin. From the far side of Binky’s lawn, a dark figure in a bulletproof vest raced to the grunting guy on the ground. “Got him,” he yelled. A flash of silver and the metal clank of handcuffs followed. “Suspect under control,” he said, speaking directly into a microphone clipped to his shoulder.
But my attention turned to Binky’s foyer. Indistinct scuffling and grunts suggested a tussle.
“Don’t shoot!”
The voice was Poppy’s—and it came from inside Binky’s house.
“He’s got a gun on us,” my grandfather continued. “We’re coming out.”
“Hold your fire,” screamed a disembodied voice from across the street.
Poppy staggered forward with his hands behind his head. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced over at the restrained kidnapper. As he shuffled a few steps, another person appeared behind him. Binky Rutherford wobbled along, leaning heavily on a cane. The interior lights of her home lit up a pair of pink cotton pajamas with some sort of tiny darker red print on them. I stayed low and hidden behind the Audi’s bumper.
“He’s got a gun on us!” Binky cried out. “A big, big gun.”
“I know you cops are out there! One wrong move and I’ll blast them both to Kingdom come.” The voice was gruff and no-nonsense.
Scooting toward the walkway, I cautiously raised my head. Poppy’s eyes flickered my way. I nodded.
“You ain’t going to get away with this,” Poppy called back over his shoulder.
A distraction.
The assailant said, “If I go down, you go down. You shouldn’t have tried to sneak in the back way, old man.”
As he spoke, I slipped into the low hedge of sea island ficus that bordered the front of Binky’s house. In the pale glimmer of her security light, I could see a flicker along her jawline that suggested she had noticed me. But otherwise, she never betrayed my existence. Instead, she moved her feet more slowly, scuffing her fuzzy pink house slippers.
“Hurry up,” demanded the creep.
“If you’d put down that big old rifle,” started Poppy, as I crept closer to the door, “I could help my friend.”
“Shut your yap, old man.”
That had been Poppy’s way of warning me. I nodded. Now he moved past me, and Binky was teetering on the threshold of the doorframe.
“Move it!” the bad guy barked. “Cops? Listen up. I’ve got both these old geezers in my crosshairs. Tell you how this is going to work. We’re going to go for a ride, the three of us.”
As he spoke, I flattened myself against the clapboard siding. My arms were outstretched. My right hand was nearly even with the doorbell.
“Don’t be stupid!” spat out Poppy. “You’ll never get away with this.”
“Oh, yes, I will,” said the creep. “I’ve got a boat waiting for me at the Intracoastal, and two hostages to secure my passage. You’re the one who’s stupid.”
A beep-beep signaled that the assailant had used his keys to remotely unlock the doors on the Audi. That gave me enough cover to move freely. My fingers inched up to the doorbell button.
Binky hesitated inside the foyer. She shot a glance my way.
I pushed the doorbell, holding it down with all my might. The chimes boomed loudly. As I’d predicted, the sudden noise started the gunman.
Without hesitation, Binky and Poppy threw themselves to the ground. A shot rang out. Another one. The glint of a rifle barrel appeared in the doorway.
Using my arm as a club, I brought it down on the rifle…hard.
The barrel dipped down, but I hadn’t knocked the weapon out of the assailant’s grasp. I raised my hand to slap at the gun again.
But Binky was faster than I was. She rolled to her feet and jumped up. Using her cane as a weapon, she swept the gunman’s feet out from under him. With a fluid motion, she produced a small dagger from handle of the walking stick. In a flash, she was on top of the assailant and holding a knife blade to the man’s throat.
Cops swarmed around us, shouting orders.
Poppy grabbed me and turned me around. “You okay, Granddaughter?”
“Never better. Except the side of my hand stings a little.”
“We need to get ice on it,” he said.
Binky backed away and let the police handcuff the assailant. “Evans? Where is he? Honey?” She shaded her eyes and scanned the darkness.
“Over here, Granny!” came a voice from the opposite side of the road.
“He’s fine,” Poppy said. “They all are. Binky, you okay?”
“Right as rain,” she said. “Just like the old days, hey, Dick?”
“Yup.” He chortled.
“Mom! Mom!” Tommy yelled at me from the side of the road. He, Sid, and Evans stood by the Toyota truck and waved at us.
My prayers had been answered. My son was safe.
46
The next morning, I awakened in my own comfy bed. The air was rich with the smell of pancakes and bacon. Every muscle complained about moving. A bass drum thumped around in my head. Tommy brought me a pain pill and water, before offering to serve me breakfast in bed. While I swallowed the tablet, he put a mug of coffee on my bedside table.
“I think I’d rather sit in the living room, please. I don’t want to spill the coffee in my lap.”
Tommy helped me to the sofa, before racing back to grab the coffee.
“How’s your arm?” asked Sid.
The ulna, that part of your forearm that becomes the bump at the base of your wrist, had cracked when I brought it down on the gun. Fortunately, the fracture wasn’t a true break, so the hospital had sent me home with splint, pain-killers, and instructions on icing my injury. Tommy, Sid, and Poppy promised to make sure I followed directions. There wasn’t much for them to do, as the combination of my exhaustion and the painkillers totally knocked me out. A hazy memory floated around, the sense that Poppy had helped me to the bathroom during the night.
“It hurts.”
“Not surprising. You hit that gun barrel hard,” said Sid.
“Speaking of hard, you sure did some fancy stunt driving, Sid,” I said.
He beamed. “Yeah. Tommy says I’ll be a natural at GTA.”
“GTA?”
“Grand Theft Auto,” explained my son. “Skye is on her way over to help you dress. Just so you know, MJ’s taking care of the store. Honora’s there, too. I was thinking, Mom. You and MJ and Skye, you’re like the Three Musketeers, aren’t you?”
“Speaking of friends, where is Jack?” I asked, as Luna rubbed her whiskers against my face. I stroked her head and tried to steer her clear of my bacon.
“Poppy is out taking him for a walk. Sid and I were getting ready to watch the news. We’re sure you’re going to be front and center.”
“Sid? You’ve got the remote? Turn up the TV, will you?”
The screen graphics announced: Human traffickers foiled at Jupiter Island. A pretty-boy announcer swept his hand toward the Intracoastal. “This quiet waterway swarmed with law enforcement agents last night. They formed a landing party, of sorts, surrounding a boat full of illegal immigrants being smuggled into the country.”
The camera switched to a man in a business suit and tie. His title, Deputy Director of US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, flashed along the bottom of the screen. “This human trafficking ring has operated with impunity for several years. Thanks to cooperation with local citizens, we were able to arrest several key figures last night.”
He went on to explain that twenty-seven people on the boat had agreed to be, what amounted to, indentured servants. “For the promise of a better life, they signed away their freedom to these predators. They didn’t realize that they’d never be able to pay off their so-called debts. That’s h
ow these human traffickers work. They prey on people’s hopes for a better life.”
Shoving a microphone closer to the deputy director’s face, a reporter asked, “Is anyone on Jupiter Island involved?”
“That’s still under investigation.”
My fork froze half-way to my mouth with a syrup covered piece of blueberry pancake dangling precariously. “Really? They don’t mean Binky, do they?”
“No,” Sid said. “Poppy thinks someone who has ties to the island was helping the smugglers and quit. That’s one reason your bad guy wanted to use Binky’s house as a hideaway.”
“Fewer than seven hundred residents live here at the peak of Season, and less than half that number live here full time,” said a reporter. “That leaves a lot of empty houses. Big houses. Many with guest houses and garages where a person could hang out and not be discovered for weeks. Officials think that human traffickers took advantage of the vacancies and Jupiter Island’s no lights policy designed to protect sea turtles.”
Once the juicy soundbites had been delivered, the news shifted to a weather report.
“How’re Binky and Evans? Do we know?” I asked.
“They’re fine,” Tommy said. “Evans and his grandmother went to the hospital because his asthma had flared up. We saw them while we waited for the doc to fit you with that splint. Evans needed a breathing treatment. I guess they checked out his grandmother, too. She was a little dehydrated, but otherwise okay. Did you know that she used to be a spy? Or something like that. Evans told us that she wasn’t worried at all about that bad guy in her home. He felt awful about bringing that creep into his grandmother’s house, but he really didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Whoa. Back up. Evans brought the trafficker to his grandmother’s house? How on earth did Evans get involved with a smuggler? How did all this start?”
“Evans is a poker player,” explained Tommy.
“But not a very good one,” added Sid.
“Someone let him into a private game in a swanky penthouse on South Shore, and he lost a bunch of money. So he told the dude he owed that he’d borrow it from his grandmother who lived on Jupiter Island. That’s when Haiger, the guy with the knife, got involved. He was instructed to keep an eye on Evans, because he was an ‘investment.’ Haiger was told to drive Evans up here to pick up the dough. That was Haiger’s Audi in the driveway of Binky’s house. But Haiger had a better idea. They had lost money on the last shipment of illegals when they bailed out. He talked to his boss about changing things up and using the Intracoastal side of the island.”
“Most of the smugglers don’t care whether their cargo make it here alive,” said Sid. “But this new shipment of people was destined to be domestic servants and sex slaves. Buyers were waiting for them.”
“Once he got to Binky’s house,” said Tommy, “Haiger pulled a knife on Evans and told Binky he’d carve up her grandson if she didn’t behave. Haiger planned to hang out at Binky’s place until the next shipment left the Bahamas and then meet the ship himself.”
“But why did Haiger let Danielle into the house?” That made no sense to me.
“Binky explained to Haiger that if she didn’t carry through with the appointment, it would raise a red flag,” said Sid. “Haiger tied Evans up in a guest bedroom to make sure Binky was on her best behavior.”
Tommy nodded his agreement. “Evans told me that Binky would have been fine, but his asthma started acting up because of the stress. That’s why Binky gave Danielle the dress. Danielle noticed it in the closet. She said you’d buy it in a heartbeat. That’s why Binky sold it to Danielle. Her idea was to get you involved so she—Binky—could get a message to Poppy. Can you believe that Poppy was, like, James Bond? Back in the day?”
Rather than blurt out, “Yes, I’ve seen him in action,” I shook my head as if to marvel at my grandfather. Frowning, I wondered, “Why did Haiger let Danielle walk away only to kill her later?”
“On her way out the door, Danielle recognized Haiger from partying on South Beach, and that would have been cool,” Tommy explained. “But Danielle couldn’t leave it alone. After she drove away, she started calling people. People who got nervous. They sent down a reinforcement who told Haiger to clean up his mess. That was the guy the cops took down first.”
“Too bad I didn’t understand that Binky was sending a message. She told me what to say to Poppy, but I ignored it because I didn’t think it was important.”
“Uh-huh,” said Tommy. “Binky was totally frustrated with you. She even put an earring in the dress so she’d get another crack at you if you messed up again. Evans was totally impressed by how sneaky she was. Especially for an old lady.”
“Poppy told Evans he needs to take poker lessons,” Sid said.
“From his grandmother,” added Tommy.
That made me laugh.
47
Poppy returned with Jack, who promptly jumped into my lap and tried to steal my bacon.
“We need to talk,” I said to my grandfather.
“Yup. But it can wait a day or two, can’t it? Let me have a little time to enjoy my grandson.”
I realized he was right and opened my mouth to say as much, right as Skye rapped at the front door. Tommy jumped up to let her in. Her face was blotchy as if she’d just had a good cry. Her swollen eyes refused to look at me, in that way of saying, “Don’t ask.”
“What can I get you to eat, Skye?” Tommy asked, politely. “We’ve got all sorts of stuff here for breakfast. I’d be happy to make you a stack of blueberry pancakes.”
If he noticed her red-rimmed eyes, he didn’t say anything. Instead, Tommy kept plying her with food. In that way, he was definitely my father’s grandson, because my dad believed that most of life’s problems can be solved with a good, hot meal.
In the end, Skye only nibbled at a piece of toast and sipped a cup of tea. Her silence told me she was upset, but I knew better than to push. I sent up a prayer that her baby was okay, because any other problem we could solve.
After I finished my breakfast, she and I went into my bedroom and shut the door. I knew Skye well enough to know that she was not ready to talk about whatever caused her tears, so instead of asking, I let her set the pace.
“I picked up two containers of Epsom salt on my way here.” She fluttered around me, helping me undress. The splint was bulky, and my sore muscles limited my mobility.
“Good,” I said. “We don’t want to incur the wrath of Poppy.”
“How’re you feeling?” she asked as she poured Epsom salt in and stirred them until they dissolved.
“Like I was run over by a truck.”
“No doubt. You’re quite the hero. Or is it heroine? Anyway, you did a remarkable thing, saving your grandfather and Binky.”
After wrapping my arm in a plastic trash bag, she helped me into the tub. My arm dangled off the side.
“You probably want your privacy.” She started to leave, but I stopped her.
“After giving birth, I gave up on modesty. Have a seat and we’ll chat.”
“Let me get my tea.”
“Are you okay?” I asked when she returned. “You seem a little pale. I haven’t had the chance to talk with you since you went to see Spalding.”
“He’s calling in a prescription for me. I’m trying to take it easy until the nausea subsides. But they called me into work at the last minute. I usually don’t wait tables at night, as you know, but another girl called off so they asked me to fill in.”
“So you’re tired? Otherwise all right?”
She stared down into her cup. “No. Not exactly. A customer ordered liver and onions. The smell sent me running to the ladies’ room. I was sick for a long time. When I came out, Zed, the manager, wanted to know what the problem was. ‘If you’ve got the flu, you shouldn’t be here,’ were his exact words. I caved in and told him I’m pregnant. He had a complete melt-down. Called me all sorts of names.”
I felt my mouth drop open. “Names? T
hat’s ridiculous. What on earth?”
“You would have thought that I was his wife, and I’d cheated on him. It was totally bizarre. Zed yelled so loud that everyone in Pumpernickel’s heard. According to him, I’m nothing more than a slut, and he’s disgusted. He fired me on the spot.”
“What?” I was back to my one word vocabulary.
“Didn’t even give me two weeks’ notice. Said my morals weren’t compatible with the family dining business. Zed even suggested that keeping me would cause harm to Pumpernickel’s reputation. Oh, and he’s sure the owner will back him up.”
“That’s utterly ridiculous, and stupid, business-wise. You’re the best waitress he has. The most popular by far.”
“That’s what I thought, and what I’ve always been told, but I guess that doesn’t count for much when you’re pregnant and not married.”
I remembered being pregnant and married to a man my parents didn’t trust. My father had cried for hours when I told him I was expecting. “I can’t trust a man who ran off with my daughter. Especially one who knows how much she means to me, and who cheated me out of the chance to be at her wedding. But here’s what I can tell you, Cara. I’ve got your back. Whatever Dominic Petrocelli does or doesn’t do as your baby’s father, know that your child has a grandfather who’ll be there for him.”
Thinking back on my father’s pledge, I drew strength from the memory. My dad had said exactly what I needed to hear. His promise had been the best gift he’d ever given me. I could do the same now for Skye.
“Well, I’m certainly not going to fire you. In fact, maybe it’s for the best that you’re leaving Pumpernickel’s,” I said. “Now you can work at The Treasure Chest full time.”
“Can you afford to pay me?”
“Absolutely. I was planning on asking you anyway.” This wasn’t strictly true. We were still several months away from being able to afford Skye as a full-time employee. However, I would not leave my friend in the lurch. No way. I’d scrimp on some other cost to make sure that Skye and her baby were taken care of.
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 145
